Paralyzed Inside
by FireworksAndHurricanes
Summary: Cam is alive and back for a new school year. Where does he stand with Maya and Zig? How will he fit with Miles, Zoe, and the other newbies? Can he survive another grueling hockey season? Most importantly, will he finally confront his inner demons, or will he spiral further into self-destruction?
1. Well I Wonder

**Author's Note:** Hi, all! I've always loved Cam, and I really thought that the show could have gone much more in depth about his mental health and self-harm issues. These issues play a large role in this story, so consider this a warning if you are triggered by such topics.

I've made a few slight changes for the purposes of this story. Here, Cam is the same age/in the same grade as Maya, Miles, etc. They are all beginning their sophomore year. Additionally, Cam and Maya's fight during Bittersweet Symphony Part 1 (after Cam punched Zig), was their final breakup, and Cam did not attempt suicide.

I will probably include some of the events of s13 and s14, but mostly I'm having the characters do their own thing. Please consider leaving constructive reviews. Does the length of this chapter bother you? Should I make them shorter if I continue? Have I written anyone out of character? Any suggestions are welcome! Enjoy!

* * *

Campbell Saunders glanced at his watch and sighed. Ten minutes until his first class of sophomore year. He observed his classmates from the front steps of Degrassi, taking in that unique atmosphere of giddiness and frenetic energy reserved only for the first day of school. Students hugged and talked over one another, eager to compare schedules and exchange stories of their summer escapades. Cam felt a pang of jealousy; he had spent his summer practicing hockey and watching sitcom reruns at home in Kapuskasing.

Their interactions looked so effortless. Cam wondered how everyone else always seemed to know the right thing to say and do without embarrassing themselves. Sometimes it seemed as though other people had been given a socialization rulebook that he somehow missed out on.

Again he checked the time. Eight minutes left. Things were moving far too quickly. His heart was racing, and he hated himself for it. Why did he have to get so damn nervous about everything? He knew was being irrational. It was just school, nothing to be afraid of. He had to do it now, rip off the Band-Aid. He traipsed up the stairs and headed into the chaos of a thousand reunited adolescents.

Cam felt as though he was walking through a jungle rather than a high school. A couple of vaguely familiar blonde girls hugged and shrieked like hyenas upon discovering the close proximity of their new lockers. A shaggy haired kid pawed at his girlfriend in the middle of the hallway, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. A rowdy pack of Cam's hockey teammates ambled down the hall, led by the king of the jungle himself.

"Yo, Birdman!" Cam cringed at Dallas' use of his unfortunate nickname. Dallas greeted Cam with a half-affectionate noogie. "I hope you've been training. We're gonna be back-to-back champs!" Luke and Owen whooped and high-fived. Cam flashed a nervous grin.

"I've been practicing like crazy. Trying to improve my stamina."

"That's what I like to hear. Practice starts tomorrow, by the way. Coach told me to tell everyone." Cam felt his stomach turn. Summer relaxation was officially gone. It was back to pressure and sore muscles and hellish drills.

"Same time as last year?"

"Yup," responded Dallas. "So, do you have a new puck bunny yet?"

"I'm, uh, keeping my options open." Cam tried to ignore the nagging memory of a certain bespectacled blonde.

"Suure you are. We'll make a player out of you yet, " Dallas snickered, before running after Alli Bhandari. Cam smiled sincerely for the first time all morning. That had gone surprisingly well. Normally he got all tripped up around his teammates. He hoped that he could make it through the rest of the day with that much ease.

* * *

"Settle down, everyone. Settle down," said Ms. Kwan patiently. "Welcome to grade ten English. We're going to have a lot of fun this year." Cam heard a student laugh in the back of the room. Ms. Kwan shot the student a warning glance before continuing. "This year we will be studying North American literature as well as writing our own stories and poems."

Cam hoped she wasn't one of those teachers who made you read your work in front of the class. He hated being put on the spot, and he hated watching other students squirm with embarrassment when it happened to them. Bored by the monotony, he started to tune his teacher out as she discussed her grading standards and lateness policy. He mindlessly doodled on his new notebook, until he was jarred back into reality by the sentence he dreaded most in the world.

"Everyone get into pairs," Ms. Kwan ordered. Cam was hit with raw panic. He hated having to worry about being the last one left, and being forced to become the pathetic third member of whichever group was charitable enough to let him join.

It didn't matter that Cam was athletic or that some girls called him "cute." He knew what the other kids thought of him. He was the quiet weirdo who skipped his own victory party after the championship game. He was the basket case, the guy who was always alone. He felt stupid for obsessing over other people's opinions of him, but sometimes he just couldn't get his stupid brain to shut up.

"You working with anyone?" asked the tall, pale kid who sat adjacent to Cam. Cam didn't recognize him at all. Maybe he was new. Then again, he had never spoken to the majority of the people in his year, so he couldn't be sure.

"Um, no, not yet. Unless you want to. Work together, I mean." Cam internally berated himself for his clumsy response. The other guy snorted and confirmed that, yes, he would be Cam's partner. Cam hoped his relief wasn't too evident as he pushed his desk closer to his partner, who introduced himself as Miles and confirmed that he was a transfer student.

"I went to private school last year," he told Cam, rolling his eyes. "They said I was too insubordinate or whatever. It's cool though. Private school blows."

"Public school isn't exactly a party either," Cam assured him.

"They're way more easygoing here," responded Miles. "Especially with the girls' dress code." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay, it looks like everyone is paired up now," said Ms. Kwan. "We're going to do an icebreaker activity with literature based questions." She passed out questionnaires for each group.

"These things are always so stupid," Miles groaned. Cam nodded in agreement. He couldn't help but notice Miles' designer polo shirt and the Rolex watch around his wrist. He must have money.

"Okay," Cam read aloud after Ms. Kwan handed him the questionnaire. "Question one: who is your favorite literary character, and why?"

"Hmm…the main guy from _On the Road _was pretty cool. Dean is his name, I think. Have you read that?"

"No. I've heard of it though."

"It was the only book I actually read for English last year. Thank God for CliffNotes, right?" Cam laughed. Miles projected the kind of breezy confidence that he had always envied.

"So, why is he your favorite?" Cam inquired.

"He's always doing exciting things. Plus, all these girls throw themselves at him. He's kind of a druggie, and he's in and out of jail a lot. He's sort of crazy, actually."

"A crazy druggie with a criminal record is your favorite character?" Mile's answer struck Cam as a little odd. But, hey, who was he to judge? Miles laughed.

"Yea, because he does what he wants, whenever he wants. And he's always having fun. Plus, he doesn't give a crap about what anyone else thinks." Cam nodded, satisfied with the interesting answer. They got through two more questions before the bell rang, freeing them. After leaving the classroom together, they were joined by Tristan, whom Cam had not seen since summer. Cam grew angry with himself for falling out of touch with one of his only friends at the school. He hoped that Tristan hadn't forgotten him completely.

"Hey, stranger!" he greeted Cam after saying hi to Miles. "What've you been up to?" Cam's anxiety melted away. Tristan was probably the most enthusiastic person he'd ever met.

"Hi, Tris. Same old. Eat, sleep, hockey. How was Paris?" He always enjoyed talking to Tristan, mostly because it required minimal actual talking on his part. All Cam had to do was supply a few prompting questions and the occasional nod during one of Tristan's monologues.

"Oh my God, it was _incredible_," he gushed. He launched into a detailed account of the Parisian cuisine, Parisian art, and, most importantly by his account, Parisian boys. The trio walked toward the sophomore cluster of lockers.

"Miles! Hey, wait up," someone called from behind them. Cam froze when he heard the painfully familiar voice. He'd know that voice anywhere. He tried—and failed—to steady his breathing as his ex-girlfriend approached.

Maya caught up to the group, stiffening when she caught sight of Cam. They stood there motionless, taking each other in, neither one speaking. Maya's hair had grown a couple of inches, and Cam wondered if she still used the same coconut scented shampoo. He wondered if he'd ever get close enough to her to find out.

Snippets of the previous year began to flood Cam's mind—dinner with Maya's parents and an overprotective Katie; kissing Maya for comfort after losing a tough game; texting her every night before bed. He missed it all so much.

"Um. Hi." Maya cracked first. She looked about as uncomfortable as Cam felt. "You got taller," she observed, though Cam had no idea if she meant it as a compliment.

"Thanks? And, uh, hi to you too."

"You two know each other?" Miles looked on curiously.

"He's the guy she dated last year," Tristan answered for the silent pair.

"Oh. Oh, you're _that_ Cam," said Miles. Cam felt himself turning red, wondering how many details of their relationship Maya and Tristan had divulged. "You're the hockey big-shot, right?"

"Yea." Cam felt so flustered. "I mean, I guess," he added, not wanting to come off arrogant. He wished that Miles and Tristan would just go away so he and Maya could be alone.

"So, how exactly did you guys meet?" Maya asked, her eyes darting between the Miles and Cam.

"He sits next to me in English," Cam responded.

"Oh."

"Yea."

"You guys have Kwan?"

"Uh-huh."

An uncomfortable Tristan mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom before leaving the group. Miles smirked, apparently amused by the awkward encounter.

"I need to get to science," said Maya. "Don't want to be late on my first day." She added the second part with a small, uncertain smile. God, had he missed that smile.

"Yea. I should probably start heading to math," answered Cam, simultaneously desperate to escape the tension and reluctant to leave Maya's presence.

"We should do this more often!" Miles chirped. Maya glared at him and rolled her eyes. "See ya, Cam," he called as he turned down the hallway with Maya. She offered Cam a feeble wave, which he returned sadly.

His mind was going crazy. When would he see Maya again? And how close were Maya and Miles? Were they friends or something more? Cam's thoughts ran in circles as he began to walk to math, sure he'd miss the warning bell.

* * *

On the last day of Cam's endless first week of classes, he sat at the end of the Icehounds' usual lunch table, trying in vain to tune out the cafeteria noise. Fridays had such a distinct sound. The chatter was louder and more animated. Instead of complaining about homework, people were making weekend plans. His teammates were discussing some upcoming party to which Cam was most certainly not invited. Everyone else seemed to be lighter and freer.

Cam didn't know why, but sometimes he'd get this feeling that he was looking out at the rest of the world through a glass bubble, almost like he wasn't human. He sat in silence, positive that no one noticed, much less cared. He felt himself fading into the background the way he always did, shrinking smaller and smaller in their minds until he was invisible to them. He sighed to himself.

With all the subtlety he could muster, Cam craned his neck to the right. A few tables over sat Miles, Tristan, and Maya, who wore a pretty blue tee shirt. Blue was always his favorite color on her. As cheesy as it sounded, he loved the way it matched her eyes. He couldn't remember if he ever told her that, but he really hoped he had.

Maya was laughing. And not just a giggle either—genuine belly laughter. It was obvious how much happier she was without him. And why shouldn't she be? Everyone got sick of him once they got to know him, and she was no exception. Maya and Tristan, both of whom were still grinning, seemed to be engrossed by whatever joke or story Miles was telling. Cam scoffed. The guy wasn't _that_ funny.

Cam hated himself for losing her. Why did he always screw things up so badly? He hated himself for the way he acted, so passive and scared, always ruled by his feelings. He couldn't understand why his stomach sometimes turned itself in knots when he was just lying in bed watching TV. Or why he couldn't stop fidgeting in class when he was nervous. Or why whenever people brought up hockey, he felt like he might die.

He just wanted to feel normal for once. He needed to get out of his damn head.

"Bye guys," he mumbled as he left the table unnoticed. He walked out of the cafeteria and down the mostly empty halls with a newfound sense of purpose. Upon reaching his destination, the back exit, he came to a halt. What the hell was he doing? This was stupid. This was so immensely stupid, but he couldn't find it within himself to care.

He cracked open the door just wide enough so that he could peer out. A few kids sat out back eating their lunches, some of them smoking cigarettes. Technically, Cam wasn't breaking any rules by going outside during lunch hours. Still, most of the kids who sat behind the school were part of what adults deemed the "wrong crowd." They were, after all, flouting the smoking prohibition with alarming nonchalance.

Cam then spotted Zig, who was sitting on top of a wooden picnic table. The warning words of Cam's parents and health teachers and those "Just Say No!" commercials ran though his mind and made his stomach churn. He cleared them from his head as best he could and went outside, approaching Zig quickly before he lost his nerve.

"Hi!" Cam blurted louder than intended. Zig turned around and raised his eyebrows.

"You're talking to me?"

"Yea. Um, hi."

"You said that already."

"Right. I knew that." His nervous laugh went unreciprocated by Zig. "I know we don't exactly have the best history-"

"That's one way to put it," Zig interrupted, his tone acidic. "You punched me in the face like a total psycho. Remember?" Of course he remembered, and he had regretted the outburst the moment it happened. It was yet another item on his long list of screw-ups.

"You don't have to-I mean, I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I really am sorry though."

"Look, is there something you want from me?" Zig asked, easing himself off the tabletop. "I've got shit to do." This was it. Cam felt as though acid was burning a hole in his stomach.

"Well, yea. Okay, I've never done this before, and I don't even know if the things people say about you are true, but if they are, could I…maybe…buy something from you? Like, something to mellow me out?" An incredulous smile crept onto Zig's face.

"Is Mr. Clean-cut Athlete seriously trying to buy drugs?" Cam nodded, unable to make eye contact. Zig chuckled. "This is too good."

"This was stupid. I should go." Cam started to turn away.

"Saunders, wait." Cam turned back. "I didn't say I wouldn't hook you up. If anyone needs downers, it's you."

"I'm sorry again about what happened last year," said Cam in earnest. He pulled a wad of birthday money out from his wallet, Zig grinned.

"Water under the bridge."


	2. Nowhere Fast

Author's Note: This chapter took way longer than expected! I'm planning on posting chapter three within the next week. My updates should be more consistent once I get through finals. I'm worried that this chapter might be kind of boring, so please tell me what you think. Thanks a ton to those who left reviews- keep 'em coming! Oh, and just to let you know, italicized font indicates a flashback.

* * *

"Dad, hey," greeted Cam after picking up his cell phone. He sat in bed, not wanting to get up for school.

"Hi, Campbell. Just wanted to check in. Your mother worries herself sick about you." Cam smiled at the familiarity of his father's voice.

"Oh, is she there?"

"No, she's at work." That was strange.

"This early? Did her hours change?"

"She's taken on more shifts, as have I. Four kids are expensive, you know," his father said half-jokingly. He continued on a more serious note. "Especially now that we're paying full tuition for Dylan's college." Cam tensed up at the reminder of his brother's lost scholarship. Hockey had been Dylan's whole life up until two years ago. Cam often wished that he had been the one to get inured instead.

"Oh man, is money really that tight? Is there some way I could help?"

"Hey, don't you start worrying about it." It was too late for that. "The best thing you could do to help is focusing on school and hockey. Recruiters will be looking at you before you know it." Though the thought of having to play hockey in college sounded less appealing than getting mauled by a pack of rabid wolves, he knew his family was counting on him. He tried to quell his rising nausea.

"I've been training hard. Coach is really pushing us."

"That's good. You boys need to be ready for your first game."

"Yea, I know." An awkward silence ensued; they had exhausted most of their potential conversation topics. Cam was still fixated on the upcoming game, which he had previously been doing his best not to think about.

"Are you starting to settle in with your billet family?"

"Yea, they're great. Really easygoing." Cam was glad to have been assigned to such lenient billet parents. He had been thrilled upon hearing his only three house rules: he was to help with chores, do his own laundry, and follow a 12:30 AM curfew on weekends.

The atmosphere of his new home often surprised him. Sean, his billet father, playfully teased his wife Nicole, and was constantly cracking jokes. And they weren't just lame dad jokes- he was actually funny. Nicole was one of those dynamic people who never stopped, rushing from book clubs to bake sales to PTA meetings without ever losing her breezy smile. Mikey, their nine year-old son, was sometimes hyper and much too loud, but he was a good kid at heart. The three of them reminded him of a perfect family from one of those cheesy fifties sitcoms. Sometimes it made him ache for something he never had.

"So, how are things going with Maya?" his dad asked after another silence.

"We broke up, remember?"

"Recently?"

"If you consider May recent." Cam rolled his eyes at his father's disinterest in his life beyond hockey.

"Oh. Well then you must not have told me."

"Yea…you're probably right." Cam let his father off the hook, despite distinctly remembering informing him of the breakup. After they exchanged good-byes Cam hung up, feeling lonelier than ever.

* * *

"Heey!" Cam called when Tristan walked into their geometry classroom.

"Someone's in a good mood," Tristan noted as he took his seat next to Cam and began to thumb through his notes vigorously. "Did you study for the quiz?"

"Nah. I was tired after practice last night. I came home and passed out." Cam was surprised by his own nonchalance. Under normal circumstances, he'd be freaking out over how ill prepared he was. He silently thanked his chemical relief for bringing him down. The sleeping pills made everything less intense. He could comprehend his problems on an intellectual level, but they couldn't hurt him. He was flying above it all. The pills loosened him up and made his anxiety melt away. He felt bolder, more fun to be around. If he ever found himself becoming too nervous or withdrawn, as he had earlier that morning when his dad called, he popped a few; they made everything easier. He leaned so far back in his chair it threatened to topple over.

"I barely had time to study either." Tristan chewed his bottom lip. "I was too busy doing that stupid history paper."

"Oh. Damn, I forgot to do that too." Cam began to laugh. For some reason he just didn't give a shit. Tristan looked up from his notes and gave Cam a puzzled look.

"What's with you today? You're acting odd."

"Whaddaya mean? I'm no odder today than I usually am. Is 'odder' right? Or is it 'more odd?' Grammar is confusing." Cam' s nonlinear thoughts seemed to tumble from his mouth uncontrollably. It was nice to speak without heeding to his omnipresent internal filter.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were high."

"C'mon, Tris. I can't be relaxed without you assuming I'm stoned?"

"I'm not assuming anything. It's just that you're not usually this…laugh-y."

"I'm just feeling calm today. That's all. I'm Zen."

"Well, I could really use some of that Zen to get me through this quiz."

"Ah, don't worry about it. Geometry is easy. It's just shapes. I mean, everything is a shape. Your head is a circle and the chalkboard is a square and-"

"Are you _sure_ there's nothing going on?" Tristan narrowed his eyes.

"Absolutely." Cam knew that he had this under control. He was being careful. Zig had assured him that doctors prescribe benzos all the time, and that they were only dangerous if you did something stupid like taking too many. Cam knew what he was doing. He had found a way to survive.

* * *

Cam quickly learned that he couldn't sleep in on Saturdays. At any given point during the weekend, some combination of neighborhood kids was bound to be in the house playing with Mikey and devouring Nicole's cooking. Cam wasn't sure whether Mikey or Nicole enjoyed this more.

He decided to take a walk on the brisk late-September afternoon, mostly to appease Nicole, who was beginning to express concern over how infrequently he left his room. He strolled around the neighborhood aimlessly until he arrived at a nearby strip mall, a popular hangout among Degrassi kids. He sat on a bench and decided to people watch. It was fun to take in all the lives and experiences around him without having to get wrapped up in it himself.

He watched a group of freshman girls whisper and then burst into giggles as another girl walked by with her eyes fixed on the ground. He listened to two gangly guys with braces compare SAT scores, the lower scorer claiming he'd had food poisoning the day of the test. He saw couples scattered all around, some kissing, others bickering. It all seemed too fast and too loud. He wondered what gave people that inexhaustible drive toward vitality. All of them seemed to want something, whether it be a seat at the cheerleaders' table or a spot on the honor roll or the approval of their parents. All Cam wanted was some sleep.

Why was it that some people seemed to draw a crowd wherever they went while others were practically invisible?

He noticed that there were all these little things that these other people seemed to know instinctively. Like, how much eye contact is enough and how much is creepy? At what point does an acquaintance turn into a friend? At what distance does it become awkward to hold the door for someone? How do you talk to a girl without making it seem like you're hitting on her? There were so many different things to consider at once. He had no idea how everyone else managed to figure it all out. One of the reasons he had always liked sports was the clearly defined rules. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do and how to do it.

A cluster of red hoodies began to approach, sending Cam into a panic. The was no way he could see the hockey team today, not after he had skipped practice and feigned illness the previous afternoon. He had sent Dallas a text yesterday claiming he couldn't get out of bed, which technically wasn't a lie. But Cam hadn't been sick at all, just too exhausted and anxious to motivate himself to do anything. Now he was kicking himself for his laziness. Why hadn't he just sucked it up and gone to practice like the rest of the team? He heard Dallas' voice in the distance and began hyperventilating. Dallas would tell their coach if he discovered Cam's lie, and then he'd be totally screwed. He had to escape before being spotted. In a frenzy he ducked into a convenience store, the nearest shelter.

Once inside the cramped store, he saw Zig strolling down an aisle with a goth-y looking girl and a guy he somewhat recognized from class last year. Cam wondered if he should approach them. He and Zig were on good terms now, but he wasn't sure what dealer-client protocol was. Plus, the other two people were virtual strangers. When he was in social situations he felt like he was playing a video game. He had just seconds to figure out the appropriate actions and reactions, almost like a puzzle.

"Saunders?" Cam jumped slightly when Zig greeted him before he had any more time to deliberate it.

"Oh, hi."

"Whatcha doing here?"

"Hiding." Zig raised his eyebrows. "I saw my hockey captain here, and I skipped practice yesterday. I told them I was really sick."

"Ooh, how badass," the girl piped in. Cam, still a little anxious about the possibility of getting caught by his team in his lie, tried to slow his breathing. His head felt tingly and hazy.

"You alright, man?" asked Zig. "You're really pale."

"Yea, I'm fine." He leaned on a shelf for support and and took a deep breath. He felt his heart rate beginning to decrease.

"You sure? Because if you're about to puke, please tell me, so I can get out of the splash zone."

"I'm okay. I sort of panicked. It's just something that happens sometimes." Cam collected himself, embarrassment beginning to set in. He flashed a small smile to assure them that he wasn't going insane.

"So, are you gonna introduce yourself or what?" asked the girl, who had long dark hair and a pierced nose.

"Um. I'm Campbell, but you can call me Cam if you want."

"God, you're twitchy. I'm Grace." Cam sighed. He sure knew how to make a first impression.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy swipe a pack of Skittles and stuff it into his pocket. The guy, who Zig informed him was named Tiny, shot him a challenging look, and Cam looked away as though he saw nothing.

After the manager insisted that they either buy something or get out, they left the store and sat on the curb. Cam scanned the area, making sure Dallas and his other teammates were gone.

"What an asshole for making us leave. It's not like we were doing anything wrong, " grumbled Zig. "_Most_ of us, anyway," he finished, grinning at Tiny, who opened the stolen Skittles and poured some into his mouth. "I bet he wouldn't have kicked us out if we looked like one of them," he said with a scowl, pointing toward a nearby group of guys in letterman jackets and designer jeans.

"Alright, I'm changing the topic before he launches into yet another tirade against rich kids," said Grace, turning toward Cam. "So, what do you do aside from playing hockey and having nervous breakdowns in convenience stores?"

"To be honest, not much else. I used to paint, but I haven't done that in years. Hockey sort of took over my life. I'm pretty into music, I guess."

"Isn't everybody? What do you listen to?"

"This is gonna sound lame, but I really like classical music. Tchaikovsky and Vivaldi, especially. It's relaxing. Like, when I'm stressed about hockey or whatever, it just makes everything… slower."

"That's not lame. If there's something that makes you different, you gotta own it." There was something interesting about Grace. She was pretty quiet, but she was also confident, so she never seemed awkward or shy. "Anyway, my music for relaxing is Radiohead. You like anything from this century? Or even the previous one?" Cam laughed.

"Sure. I discovered my dad's old Zeppelin and Pink Floyd records a few years ago. That was pretty awesome."

"Cool. You have good taste, Cam."

After rummaging through his bag, Zig took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Cam. "You smoke?"

"I do now." Cam shrugged and took the cigarette. Self-destruction was scary until you did it the first time. And then it became the easiest thing is the world. Cam wondered how one person could be so contradictory. He either cared too much or not at all. He either exercised extreme caution or acted on all his reckless impulses.

"Stop corrupting the guy," scolded Grace, though she wore a grin.

"Yo, can i bum one?" Tiny asked Zig.

"Fifty cents," he responded.

"You gave Cam one for free!"

"Yea, cause it's his first. Complain again and I raise it to a dollar." Tiny huffed and handed over the coins in exchange for a cigarette. Using Zig's lighter, Cam lit his own cigarette, which felt foreign in his fingers. He put it between his lips and inhaled. He instantly had a coughing fit. The bitter taste made him nearly gag.

"Take slower drags and you'll be fine," Tiny advised. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Zig addressed Cam.

"So. Are you still hung up on Matlin?"

"No. I don't know. Kind of." Cam attempted to make his next inquiry sound casual. "Wait, you're not still into her are you?" Zig gave a knowing smirk.

"Nah. She's cool and everything, but she's always in the middle of drama."

"So you're just friends?" Cam clarified.

"Yea, for the most part. We sort of fight like every other day. Another reason we couldn't go out. She's with that rich douchebag anyway."

"They could break up."

"I dunno. Girls are into money. Trust me on that one."

"I miss her," he finally admitted.

"You gotta move on. There are plenty of other hot girls in our grade."

"But I don't want any other girls."

"She's just a person, dude. She's not worth obsessing over. Or punching someone in the face over."

"I'm really sorry about that again."

"Chill. It was just a joke."

"Wait, you punched him in the face?" asked Tiny in surprise. Cam nodded, ashamed of himself. "Way to go!" Tiny high-fived him. Zig flipped Tiny the bird with a smirk.

"I can't picture you punching anyone," said Grace with an amused smile. "You're like a puppy." Cam laughed. If only she knew all the fucked up things in his head.

* * *

"_Sometimes I feel like I don't even know you," said Maya quietly. The pair sat under a tree outside school on the warm spring day. It was Cam's first day back after his suspension during Spirit Week, and although Maya claimed to have forgiven him for the fight with Zig, things had been tense between the couple ever since. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. He could tell that something was really off with Maya. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and she was staring at her hands as she pulled blades of grass from the ground._

"_You do know me, I promise," answered Cam, hearing the hint of desperation in his voice. "Is this about the thing with Zig? I'm really, really sorry." _

"_I know you are. But this is bigger than the fight itself. After Zig and me kissed, you acted like you were completely over it, but you just bottled everything up until you exploded. Why didn't you talk to me about how you were feeling?" The thought of talking to her about his jealously had never even entered his mind. He didn't see the point in burdening other people with his feelings._

"_I don't know. I get over things on my own. Telling you that I was upset would've hurt you and made you feel guilty. You were happy, Mqyq. Why ruin that?" Maya stared at him open-mouthed for a moment before responding. _

"_Because __you__ weren't happy. It's like you don't even trust me enough to tell me when something's wrong." Cam was bewildered by her words. This had nothing to do with trust. In fact, he trusted Maya more than anyone else in his life. This was about protecting her from his crazy side._

"_Of course I trust you! I don't understand. I was trying to do the right thing."_

"_God, you're not getting this at all." Maya ran her hands through her hair in frustration and sighed. "Campbell, when you broke your arm last term…was it really an accident?" _

"_W-what?" Cam was taken aback by the question._

"_Please just answer me."_

"_Sorry, it's just that you caught me off guard."_

"_Cam, that's my whole point! You shouldn't have to be guarded around me."_

"_I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, okay?" _

"_Stop apologizing."_

"_Alright." _

"_You still haven't answered my question."_

"_It was an accident. Of course it was." _

"_That's bullshit and we both know it." Cam was shocked by the small blonde's use of profanity. Maya's eyes filled with tears. "I don't think I can do this anymore."_

"_Do what? What are you saying?" Cam's usual anxiety was now amplified. This couldn't really be happening._

"_You're miserable and you refuse to talk about it. Dammit Cam, I lo- I like you too much to keep watching this. I think we need to break up." _

"_Maya, please don't. Anything you want from me, I'll do it." He felt a lump forming in his throat._

_Maya shook her head, tears flowing freely now. "This is all too much," she whispered. She let out a sob before running away, leaving the broken boy to fall apart._


	3. Half a Person

Author's Note: There's a slightly graphic scene at the end, just so you're forewarned. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Cam scanned his history class and noticed that very few of his classmates were actually awake. The darkened room in combination with the painfully monotone narrator of the World War I documentary created the perfect conditions for a midmorning nap. Cam wondered if teachers had an arsenal of boring videos saved specifically for days when they didn't feel like teaching. It sure as hell seemed that way.

Cam knew he'd probably be among the sleeping students had he not overheard the girls sitting near him mention Maya in their hushed conversation. He had tuned in automatically the second he heard his ex's name. Catching random bits of information, he tried in vain to piece together the story. He had been hearing scattered gossip about her all day, mostly from girls who wore looks of scorn. Cam was usually slow to anger, but hearing the things they said about Maya enraged him.

"I can't believe she'd be such a slut," whispered the girl in front of him, who didn't seem to care that her long ponytail whacked Cam in the face every time she turned her head. The fact that that word was even being used in the same sentence with Maya's name made him livid.

"Do you really think it's true?" replied her wide-eyed friend. "She doesn't seem like the type."

"Everyone's saying it's the truth," a third girl chimed in with all the seriousness of a news reporter. "I heard it from my friends on the Power Squad."

"Wow. What a bitch." Cam wondered what Maya possibly could have done that was so bad.

"I know, right?"

"I guess sluttiness runs in the family." Cam rolled his eyes. He figured they were probably talking about Katie's entanglements with Drew and Jake last year. He could never understand why people had to be so judgmental. Who cared about someone else's actions, as long as no one was hurt?

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised," continued the first girl. "She always acts sweet and innocent, but she's so fake." Cam was fuming more and more each second. They didn't know a damn thing about her.

He couldn't listen to any more of it.

"Hey, um, not to be rude, but could you please talk a little quieter?" he interrupted. "I'm trying to hear the movie. Sorry." They stared at him with raised eyebrows for a second before turning back around wordlessly.

"Who knew that freak actually talks?" one of them whispered.

"I dunno, I'm kinda into the whole 'quiet brooding guy' thing." They burst into giggles and Cam stared down at his desk, his cheeks burning.

"Yea, but he seems a little off in the head, don't you think?" More giggles. God, did they ever shut up?

When at long last the bell rang, Mr. Hadley stopped the class to return their tests. The teacher handed Cam his exam folded inward, concealing the grade. Cam gulped; that was never a good sign. Everyone knew that. Cam placed the paper facedown on his desk, too afraid to peek at his score. He hadn't studied at all because he'd been too preoccupied with the dreaded first game of the season, coming up that Friday. History had been the last thing on his mind, and he was certain he'd done poorly.

"Mr. Saunders, do you have a minute?" asked Mr. Hadley as the other students began to file out of the room. "I'd like to have a word with you."

Cam nodded. He figured he'd better look at his grade. He peeled back the corner of his paper just slightly enough to reveal a "78" written in harsh red ink. Seventy-eight. Passing, but just barely. Surely other students had done worse.

"You're clearly a bright young man," said Mr. Hadley once the room had emptied out. "Why don't your grades reflect that?" Cam sighed. He hated even thinking about school. It wasn't that he didn't care about his grades. Every night he attempted his homework in earnest, fully intending to get it all done. But when he tried to do it his mind either started racing or went completely blank. He could never seem to concentrate. When he had to write papers he ended up staring at an empty Word document for hours, unable to write anything but the heading. He often found himself waiting for a motivating rush of panicked adrenaline that never arrived. He slogged through his work in unreasonably small increments until giving up and going to bed well after midnight with it only half finished. He was awash in self-loathing but too tired to care. The previous night he had been lounging on his bed, studying geometry. His textbook had slipped from his hands onto the floor, and Cam couldn't bring himself to pick it up. It felt as though hundred pound weights had been tied to all his limbs. He told himself he'd pick it up after a five minute break, which was extended to twenty minutes, and eventually to an hour and a half. He lied there nearly paralyzed, feeling so pathetic and so dead.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hadley. I'll try harder."

"I could set you up with a tutor if you'd like."

"No thanks, that's okay. I can't let anything interfere with hockey." The weary teacher pursed his lips and sighed.

"Okay, but I expect to see improvements. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Campbell. I don't like watching smart students waste their potential." Cam nodded meekly.

"_I am very disappointed by these test grades." Cam's teacher slowly paced up and down the rows as she lectured the fifth graders. "It is imperative that you develop better study skills."_

_She arrived at Cam's desk and placed the paper in front of him. Cam grinned when he saw his grade. "Many of you could learn a thing or two from Mr. Saunders. He received the only perfect score in the class." Cam felt his face turning red._

"_Nerd!" coughed his classmate, eliciting laughter from the other students. While Cam hated being singled out for his good grades, he couldn't help but feel proud of himself. School was the one thing he never had to worry about._

Cam headed out the back exit for lunch, desperate to put the conversation behind him. He joined Zig and Grace at a picnic table and lit a cigarette. Zig greeted him, while Grace gave a quick nod, not looking up from her laptop.

Grace was focused intently on the computer, brows furrowed. Cam found it interesting to watch people engaged in something they care about. He had loved watching Maya practice the cello while they were going out. Grace wore headphones, tuned out from the world until she noticed Cam's gaze.

"Any particular reason you're staring like a creep?"

"Sorry. I was just wondering what you're doing."

"Oh. I'm writing a java script. I'm trying to fix a bug in this old game I found the other day."

"Oh, that sounds interesting."

"It is. I want to be a computer programmer one day."

"Cool. That suits you, I think." Grace nodded. After a moment of silence she pulled her ear buds out and faced him.

"You know, this is the part where most people would tell me what they want to do when they get out of here." In truth, Cam hadn't thought much about it. He knew what he was _supposed_ to do. But want? He hadn't a clue.

"Well I guess if I get drafted then I'll play for the NHL."

"Yea, but you hate hockey."

"I don't _hate_ it."

"Well you don't love it either. What would you want to do if hockey was out of the picture?"

"Hm. I guess…maybe if I grow up I'll be a teacher- an English teacher. Like the guy from _Dead Poets Society_. I think it'd be really cool to be able to inspire kids like that, you know?" He hadn't even known the idea was in his head until the words had left his mouth. Grace smiled.

"And that suits you," she responded. Her smile lingered awhile before she turned to Zig. "And what about you, Novak? What're you doing with your life?"

"I dunno," Zig muttered, his mouth full of potato chips. "College is out of the question. And don't try to tell me it's not. Every time I talk about it with Maya she starts going on about scholarships and getting a job. It's freaking annoying."

"Wow, it must be _so hard_ to have your friend care about you," said Grace.

"She has a savior complex and she needs to mind her own damn business." Grace rolled her eyes at him.

"Hey, speaking of Maya," Cam cut in, "Is there something going on with her? I keep overhearing things. I think someone mentioned Miles…"

"You haven't heard?" answered Zig. "God, you're slow on the uptake. She and Richie Rich got in a huge fight 'cause Zoe started this rumor that she cheated on him. And now Maya's pissed at him for being paranoid and not trusting her." Cam silenced the small, evil voice inside that was thrilled over the fight. He had wanted them to break up, but not like this.

"So…are they still together, or…?"

"No idea. But even if they did break up, I doubt it'll last long. Knowing Hollingsworth, he'll probably be over it by tomorrow morning and he'll be putting flowers in her locker or something. The guy is ridiculously moody. Did you know he got kicked out prep school for arson? He wasted daddy's money and now he's stuck in this shithole."

"Why do you care? " Grace asked, looking down at her computer screen once more.

"Because. I don't know. He's everything I hate. He's an obnoxious, entitled prettyboy who doesn't even realize how lucky he is. Whatever." Cam's mind was still on Maya's situation, and he was confused about something.

"Wait, but why would Zoe do something like that?" he asked. "I thought she and Maya were friends."

"Oh, Cam," Grace laughed. "So innocent, so naïve. There are no such things as friends when it comes to ex-boyfriends." Cam chewed on this for a moment and decided he was glad to be far removed from the brutal, complicated world of girl drama.

"Alright, I gotta go," said Zig, standing up. "Warning bell is going off in a little bit."

"Ooh, look who's suddenly a goody two-shoes," Grace teased.

"My mom is pissed at me for skipping last week. I can't get in trouble again." He gathered his stuff and addressed Cam, lowering his voice. "By the way, I'm bringing my stash tomorrow, so if you need anything make sure you have money."

"Got it."

"Dude, you really need to find a better way than downers to manage your stress," advised Grace once Zig was out of earshot. "You should come to tai chi with me some time. It's kinda lame, but it works. Plus, we can make fun of all the granola hippie-dippy types who go there."

"Sure, that could be fun, if it's after hockey. But Stress isn't all bad though…Dallas says it makes you more focused."

"It also turns you into a giant ball of anxiety."

"Look, I may not love playing hockey, but I'm surviving and I'm not causing anyone any trouble. I mean, that's what really matters, right?"

"Buddy, you've got one seriously fucked up worldview."

* * *

"Can I stay and play basketball?" begged Mikey when Cam arrived to pick him up from school the following day. "They need a sixth player."

"I'm not sure…"

"Please, please, _please_? Just one game, I swear."

"Alright," Cam conceded. "I don't see why not."

"You're the best!" Mikey shouted as he bounded toward his friends. Cam laughed at Mikey's propensity to shower compliments upon whoever gave into his whims. The kid offered "I love you"s and hugs much more readily when he was planning on asking his parents for something.

Cam plopped himself onto a nearby bench and smiled sadly as he watched Mikey and his friends bicker over the technicalities of the game. As quickly as the argument had started it was resolved, and the kids were back to laughing and playing. Cam couldn't remember the last time he felt as alive and carefree as the boys seemed to be. Maybe the reason kids were so happy all the time was that they didn't overthink or feel the need to find meaning in everything. They just did want they wanted without reason, simply because they could, almost like animals. Cam decided maybe he should be more like a wild animal, focusing only on survival, as he had mentioned to Grace the other day. Animals didn't have the time to sit around having existential crises, because they had real problems, like avoiding attacks and finding food. From now on Cam would keep his head down and his feet moving. There was no need for sentimentality or reflection or-

"Can I sit here?" Cam looked up to see a red-faced, swollen-eyed Maya.

"Uh," Cam sputtered in shock. "Yea. Yea, of course." She joined him on the bench, sitting at the very edge of the opposite end. Cam rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a tissue for her. "It's sort of crumpled. Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine." She removed her glasses and wiped her eyes. "Thanks."

"You've got a little…" Cam said, pointing to the smeared eyeliner on her cheek. She sighed.

"This is why I barely ever bother with this stuff," she muttered, wiping her cheek. "It always ends up smudged." Cam couldn't believe he was really sitting here with her, and he was terrified of screwing up. Should he directly address her situation with Miles, or would that be intrusive? Would trying to make her laugh seem insensitive? If he waited for her to speak, however long it took, would he come off as patient or just uncaring? He decided that the possibility of saying the wrong thing was better than saying nothing at all.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" He played with his hoodie strings uncomfortably.

"Everyone's calling me a slut. I hate Zoe so much. Miles won't even talk to me, and everything is a mess."

"I'm sorry." Maya shrugged.

"It's not like it's your fault."

"I know. But it still sucks.

" Yea. It does." She looked down at her feet. "Uh, just so you know, I wasn't looking for you. I didn't know you'd be here."

"Oh. Okay?" Was she trying to make Cam feel unwanted?

"Not that I'm not happy to see you," she added quickly. "I just didn't want you to think I was, like, stalking you or something."

"Oh. Well, you're 5'2" and your cello weighs more than you. You'd be the least threatening stalker anyway."

"Not true! I could so take you." She flexed her barely-there bicep. They both laughed and for a brief moment they locked eyes. Unfortunately, Maya's smile faded as quickly as it came, and tears welled in her eyes once again.

"Hey, I know things must be really hard right now," said Cam, trying desperately to make her feel better. "But in a week or two people will barely remember this."

"You really think so?"

"For sure. People get bored quickly. They'll move on to the next scandal before you know it."

"I guess you're right. I just hate the looks people give me and they way everyone stops talking when I walk into a room."

"It doesn't matter what they say about you. You're better than them."

"I never used to care about what people thought of me."

"And you still shouldn't. You're Maya freaking Matlin." Maya grinned and scooted closer to Cam.

"I don't even really care that they're talking about me. It's just…how could they actually think I'd cheat on someone? You didn't believe it, did you?"

"Not even for a second," answered Cam, because it was pretty much the truth.

"Thanks." She took a deep breath and balled up her tissues, apparently finished with her tears. "You know what? Enough about me. How have you been? It's been so long."

"I've been good." Okay, so it was a bit of a lie, but why burden her with his problems when she already had enough of her own? She narrowed her eyes and looked at him closer, like she was examining him under a microscope. Cam shifted in his seat- it felt as though she could see right through him.

"For real?"

"For real. Hockey is stressful and all, but I'm coping."

"That's really great to hear, Cam."

Cam felt a wet plop on his forehead and looked up at the overcast sky. Maya wiped a droplet off her glasses. "I think it's starting to rain," he stated.

"You like the rain though. It relaxes you." Cam grinned. He had mentioned his love of stormy weather once during a conversation months ago. He couldn't believe she had held onto such a minor detail about him.

"You remembered."

"Of course I did."

"Rain is like…an equalizer, you know? Even the richest and most popular kids show up to school with muddy sneakers and soggy backpacks."

"Totally. Plus, girls like Zoe end up with their hair ruined. That's always funny." Cam loved hearing the softness of her voice. He loved that she was so fun and friendly, yet had a quiet, more thoughtful side as well. And she always looked pretty in an effortless way. It overwhelmed him how much he had missed her.

"Have you heard the Animal Advantages' new album?" she asked, referencing an indie band she had introduced him to the previous year.

"Not the whole thing, but I heard the first single."

"I have a digital copy, I'll send it to you! It's so good." She continued to rave about the band, barely pausing to take a breath. Cam thought his mouth might become sore from all the smiling he was doing. This was just like when they'd been going out. They could talk about books and music and TV for hours without ever getting bored. "Tristan never wants to talk about this stuff. I missed this," Maya complained. "And you," she added shyly.

"I don't want to be strangers any more," said Cam.

"Me neither." A flash of lightning interrupted them then, startling them both. Cam waved Mikey over as the rain began to pick up.

"I should probably get going," said Maya. "Dinner's almost ready, and now that Katie's off at college my mom has all her attention on me. I can't get away with anything any more."

"Yea, I should too. …Hey, do you remember that time we hid in a photo booth to get away from Katie when she came to the movies with us?"

"That day was hilarious. Typical Katie…_so_ overbearing." She pulled her damp hair up into a messy bun. "Thanks for making me forget about everything with Miles and Zoe. You're like the least judgmental person ever."

"Are you his girlfriend?" Mikey broke in. Cam hadn't even realized the kid had been standing there. Maya shook her head and started laughing, a little too hard for Cam's liking.

"No," she answered. "We're, um…friends?" She gave Cam a coy smile.

"Yup. We are friends."

* * *

Cam ran into the bathroom stall and forced the lock just in time. He bowed over the toilet as he hurled up his lunch. He groaned when he tasted the bile in his mouth, praying no one would walk in and notice the foul smell. He was shaking and his face was covered in cold sweat. How the hell was he going to play in the season's first in game twenty minutes? He couldn't do this anymore. He just wanted to be at home, his actual home, wrapped in a warm blanket and shutting out the world. Maya's presence in the audience increased the pressure even more. Now he had to worry about screwing up in front of her too. He wiped his moth and flushed the toilet, his clammy hands still trembling. He knelt down again as his stomach lurched a second time. He thought about using his nausea as an excuse to sit out, but that would only make the team hate him even more. Plus, his parents had been anticipating this game for weeks. He buried his head in his hands, wishing time would freeze. His heart leapt into his throat as he heard the bathroom door creek. He held his breath as footsteps walked down the row of stalls.

"Dad, I can't do this right now," hissed a familiar voice. Cam peaked through the crack in the stall to see Miles pacing rapidly while on his cell phone.

"…yea, well I don't care," the conversation continued. "How is that my fault?" After a few moments of silence, Miles began to shout. "That's not fair! You know what? I don't have issues with authority. I have issues with assholes!" He shoved his phone into his pocket and kicked the wall. "God dammit," he muttered.

Cam couldn't even imagine what it was like to have an outburst like that instead of suffering in silence. Whenever he was upset, he immediately turned inward. He had been trapped inside himself for so long that he could barely utter a whisper, even when his mind was screaming

Without warning, he vomited again, releasing an involuntary groan.

"Woah. Hey, are you alright in there?" Miles asked. Cam kept silent, hoping his classmate would go away. "Hellooo?"

"I'm fine," said Cam weakly.

"Cam? Are you sick or something?"

"Nah. It's just nerves."

"Oh. I guess this game is pretty important, huh?"

Yea. Well, they all are, really."

"Why don't you just sit out if you don't feel well?"

"That's not really an option. My parents have been anticipating this for like a month."

"Yea, I get it. Parents are assholes."

"No, I mean, they're nice and everything. They just have high expectations."

"Ah. Well, I stand by my 'parents are assholes' sentiment." Cam wasn't sure what to say or how to respond. He closed his eyes and held his head in his hand, just wanting everything to end. "Um. Well, me and Tristan and Maya are here," said Miles, clearly out of his element. "So I guess you could try to think about that if you get nervous. And we're all getting along now, so that's good." Maya must've forgiven him. _Great,_ thought Cam. _How fucking wonderful. _"Do you want me to get the nurse or something?"

"No, no, that's okay. I'm fine. Thank you though."

"Alright. Well good luck. And honestly? To hell with what your parents think." With that he walked out, giving Cam the few moments of peace he longed for. Cam had to admit he sort of admired Miles' devil-may-care attitude.

He checked his watch, knowing Dallas was probably looking for him. It was time to stop playing around. He stood up and wiped the sweat from his face.

"C'mon, Saunders," he whispered to himself. "Get it together."

_A frustrated Cam locked himself in an empty stall. He knew he was getting too old to keep letting his nerves get the better of him like this. After all, he'd be in middle school next year! He shuddered at the thought._

_He has no idea why he was becoming so anxious. So he had lost a gym class basketball game…big deal. He knew it didn't even matter, which made him feel even worse for getting upset over something so dumb._

_He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to rid himself of the tears that were coming. God, why did he always have to be the class crybaby? The other boys thought he was a freak, and Cam knew they called him a girl behind his back. He hated how his classmates acted when they were all together, so rowdy and cruel. Last week they laughed at him for crying while watching a sad part in "Toy Story." Why did he have to care about everything so much?_

_ A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He wiped it instantly, as though swatting a fly away. He hated himself so much. He was weak. Weak and pathetic and a total baby. He hit himself on his thigh in frustration. He began to punch harder and harder, releasing all the anger he felt toward himself._

_ Despite being sensitive, he was physically strong, and he packed as much force as possible into the frantic punches. They hurt, of course, but he didn't care. He liked that he was in control of it._

_ "There you are, Mr. Saunders," said the gym teacher when he returned ten minutes later. "Is everything okay?"_

_ "Yup," said Cam with a smile. "Everything's fine."_

* * *

There were ten minutes left in the final period, the score 3-4 in the opponents' favor. Cam knew he hadn't been playing at his best. He was going through the motions, playing robotically, just desperate for it all to be over. He had only helped the Ice Hounds score one of their three goals, much to Dallas' chagrin. Perhaps this was acceptable for some of the other players, but only the best was expected from Cam. It seemed impossible to keep his mind on task, his thoughts jumping from his parents' expectations to his shouting teammates to the pile of schoolwork awaiting him at home. It didn't help that Maya sat next to Miles in the crowd, apparently completely over their argument. Was their conversation from the other day totally meaningless? It hadn't felt that way at the time. The ref blew his whistle after Dallas called a timeout.

"Saunders," the captain said through gritted teeth in a low, frightening voice. "What the hell is going on with you today?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous."

"Well, get your head on. We're all counting on you. Get some water before you go back out there." Cam pulled his water bottle out of his bag and took a long swig. When he was sure no one was looking, he furtively slipped a pill into his mouth and gulped it down with his next sip of water. He needed to be calm for the final minutes of the match. He couldn't lose. He just couldn't.

"You better not screw this up for us, Rook," threatened Luke, sending a shiver down Cam's back. Luke snickered.

"Oh please," shot back Bo. "You've been deadweight this entire game."

"You wanna take that back?"

"Is that a threat?"

"You guys are both morons," grumbled Chris.

"Stay the hell out of this," spat Luke.

"That's enough, all of you." Dallas held up a firm hand, silencing everyone immediately. He then addressed Cam again.

"Look, if you can't do this, you better say something now, so someone else can sub in."

"I can do this," Cam assured the older boy. "I promise."

"Good. Now let's get back out there."

Cam felt a little lighter as he skated back onto the ice. He took a deep breath and settled into his position, guarding a tall, stocky guy.

"You got this! Woo!" Cam grinned when he heard Tristan's cheers. He looked in his friend's direction and saw a smiling Maya now sitting on Miles' lap. Envy rose in his chest. He took another long breath. Now was not the time. For the next ten minutes, Maya couldn't exist.

The whistle blew, the clock restarted, and Cam flew.

* * *

"The Ice Hounds win!" The announcer's glorious words repeated themselves in Cam's head over and over as he skated off the rink with the rest of his team, the Degrassi students and parents in the crowd going wild. He felt warm when he saw an excited Maya jumping up and down.

Dallas' smile disappeared immediately once the team entered the locker room.

"Guys, that was way too close," said the captain. Cam looked up at Dallas confused. "The Pirates are an easy team. This should've been a walk in the park."

"Dude, don't be such a buzz kill," Luke whined.

"This isn't about you," Dallas snapped. "Cam, you can't keep playing like this. And don't think I haven't noticed how distracted you've been at practice. Get your head out of your ass."

"But Dallas, I scored the last goal," Cam protested, feeling affronted,

"You don't get it, do you? You're supposed to be one of our best players. Today you were mediocre, at best."

"I'm sorry, but-"

"But nothing, People are counting on you. It's time to start buckling down."

"C'mon, man, we won," Owen interrupted. "Ease up a little, would ya?"

"This is serious," Dallas nearly shouted, now addressing the whole room. Cam was so bewildered—and somewhat frightened-by his teammate's anger. "It's so much bigger than just this game or just this season. Winning the championship means NHL offers. Winning means security and money, so I can take care of shit I need to. Some of us have real responsibilities. So quit playing around, especially you, Cam."

Cam nodded wordlessly and slinked off to the showers. Not wanting to have to face anyone, he showered and changed as slowly as possible, lingering in the locker room as the rink emptied out.

He wished he could feel angry at Dallas for ruining what should've been a happy moment, but mostly he was just disappointed in himself. And he was tired—so, unbelievably tired.

* * *

Cam was accustomed to tumultuous emotions, to sadness and anxiety that came in waves and thrashed around inside him for hours and hours. What he could never anticipate were these rare moments of numbness during which he felt nothing at all. He was empty- blissfully, terribly empty.

He lied on his bed, just wanting to sleep after the exhausting game and subsequent scolding from Dallas. Sleep and relaxation, however, were evading him. His head felt dull and fuzzy. He stared at himself in his mirror, unable to connect his memories with the reflection, or the reflection with his own name.

Cam knew what he had to do. He had to make things real again. He unzipped his hockey bag and pulled out one of his skates, holding the recently sharpened blade mere inches from his left wrist. He hadn't done this in a few years, though he had come close a few months ago, after his breakup with Maya. After a brief moment of hesitation, he jammed blade into his skin and pulled it across his wrist. He initially cringed at the sting of the wound, but he soon found relief in that familiar burn. The cut appeared as a thin line for a split second until the blood sprang to the surface. Cam felt a sick sense of satisfaction as he watched a droplet of blood trickle onto his jeans. The knowledge that he had done that to himself was strangely comforting to him.

He drew his wrist in close to his chest and raced to the bathroom down the hall, thankful he had gone unnoticed. A pained gasp escaped him as he ran his wrist under warm water, which intensified the stinging. He rinsed the red-tinted sink and flushed the bloody tissues down the toilet, destroying all the evidence.

Cam wondered why people always made such a big deal out of the cutting thing. Sure, it was destructive, but so were a lot of things. Everyone had their vices, and this was no worse than smoking or drinking. Those things were just more widely accepted. Cam knew this was nothing to freak out over. He wrapped his wrist in a bandage, pulled down the sleeve of his shirt, and returned to his room. He was calm. Things were fine.


	4. This Charming Man

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter. I just wasn't liking anything I wrote. Anyway, I hope you like this final product- it's a little dialogue-heavy. Feedback, as always, would be really helpful! Also, thanks to those who followed and favorited.

* * *

In the weeks following that abysmal first game, Cam had dedicated nearly all of his free time to practicing hockey. He skated laps before school at practically the crack of dawn (not that he was able to sleep anyway), and half the time he felt completely robotic.

The one bright spot in his days was talking with Maya before practice after school. Sometimes Zig or Tris or even Miles would join in, but Cam liked it best when it was just the two of them. One Friday, having taken note of how tightly wound Cam had been lately, Maya invited him out to a concert.

"I'm so glad the weather's finally cooling off," said Maya that night as they walked to the corner where they were to meet Miles. She skipped down the sidewalk arm-in-arm between Tris and Cam. "I love this time of year." The cool October evening was a welcome change from the hot weather they'd been having. Maya wore a burgundy sweater and a body-hugging pair of jeans. Cam thought she looked, for lack of a better description, smoking hot.

"Me too," Cam agreed. "The leaves look pretty."

"I still can't believe you managed to convince Campbell the Hermit to venture out with us," said Tristan to Maya.

"He just couldn't resist my incredible powers of persuasion," she said, looking at Cam and doing this cute halfway smile that drove him crazy.

"Or something like that," Cam said with a grin. "Plus, it'd probably be a little pathetic to spend my Friday night doing homework, right?"

"Just a tad." Cam couldn't fight the feeling that he was intruding on another group's night out. He'd nearly backed out at the last minute until Maya sent him an excited text message. Being able to spend time with her made all the nervousness worth it.

"God, Cam, now I have to look up to see you," said Maya. "You too, Tris. You guys need to stop growing."

"Maybe you need to _start_ growing," Cam teased. She shoved him lightly and a smirk crept onto her face.

"Well, you should've worn heels," said Tristan. "You'd have been taller, and they would've _made_ that outfit." Cam glanced down at Maya's distressed Converse sneakers and smiled.

"But we're going to be dancing!" she answered. "And, yes, even you, Cam," she added, reading his mind.

"Yea, that's not happening," he protested.

"Oh yes it is," she shot back. "I'll make it happen."

"Good luck with that."

"I won't need it."

"Look at Matlin laying down the law," laughed Tristan.

"This is gonna be a great night," she said in a sing-song voice. "Not even _Zoe_ can ruin it. I still can't believe you invited her, Tris."

"You say her name like she's some kind of deadly parasite or something," he answered.

"Well…"

"She feels really bad about everything, I swear."

"No she doesn't."

"I'm sure she'll apologize eventually."

"Hell will freeze over before that happens."

"Just promise you'll give her a chance. She can actually be nice sometimes once you get to know her."

"Yea, yea, I promise. But only for you."

"Don't worry, Maya," said Cam. "If she gives you any crap, I'll stick up for you." Maya and Tristan glanced at each other before bursting into laughter. "What?" asked Cam. "It's true!"

"No offense," said Tristan, "But you're not particularly threatening."

"What are you gonna do? Like, hug her to death?" asked Maya, still chuckling.

"Alright, sorry I brought t up," sulked Cam, though he felt the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

"Aw, _Cam,_" said Maya, pulling him into a bear hug. "It's just that you're not very good a being mean. That's a great thing." Cam grinned and hugged her back, loving the way she felt in his arms.

A black Escalade skidded to a halt and pulled over clumsily at the corner, knocking into a garbage can in the process.

"That would be Miles," said Maya, looking half exasperated and half enthralled. Miles stuck his head out the window and gestured frantically for them to hurry.

"Get in the car!" he barked, waving the trio in. His usual laid-back tone was replaced by one of urgency.

"How are we all fitting in here?" Maya asked as the three of them squished into the back seat, which was already occupied by a Zoe. In the passenger seat was a skinny Asian guy who hung around with Miles a lot.

"I'm Winston," he said to Cam. "And someone's going to have to sit on someone else's lap."

"Isn't that illegal?" Maya asked.

"Probably," said Winston with a shrug. "One of you girls should sit on Tris' lap. You know, cause he's gay so it won't be awk-"

"Christ. Just hurry up and decide already," ordered Miles. "I'm grounded and my dad will absolutely kill me if he catches us leaving."  
Zoe scooted into Tris' lap after introducing herself to Cam. He decided to make an attempt at conversation.

"Hey, you're the girl from-"

"_West Drive_," she cut him off. "Yea. Well, not anymore obviously."

"What do you mean?"

"My character is dead," she said flatly.

"Oh. I didn't know. Sorry for your loss. Well, sorry you lost your job I mean. Obviously no one actually died."

"Right," Zoe snorted. _Great, _thought Cam. _Now this girl thinks I'm crazy._

"So, I guess you're taking a break from acting?" Cam asked in attempt to smooth over his social blunder. "That's nice."

"Well, I've been doing auditions. I haven't gotten anything yet, but whatever. It's competitive."Maya snickered at this, and Zoe glared at her.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" Zoe threatened.

"Nope, nothing at all."

"Guys, you promised you'd try to get along," Tristan reminded them.

"Sorry, Zoe," Maya muttered.

"Whatever."

"So," said Winston to Miles in an obvious attempt to break the tension. "What'd you do to get yourself grounded this time?"

"I called my dad a dick in front of his campaign manager. Daddy-o says I'm disrespectful. Can you believe he'd make such a _hurtful_ accusation?" He put his hand over his chest for dramatic effect.

"I truly can't, Miles," Winston responded. "Such audacity, that guy has."

"I know, right? Anyway, I'm not supposed to leave the house for two weekends."

"Well, that sucks."

"But honestly, it's more of a punishment for him than it is for me. Now he's stuck having to deal with my presence for two weeks." Cam couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for the guy.

"So, I'm assuming you're gonna try annoying him so much that he shortens the punishment?" asked Winston.

"You know me too well."

"I know this is a pretty radical suggestion," Maya piped in. "But you _could_ try actually listening to him for once."

"Oh, but what fun would that be?" he answered. Maya smiled and shook her head. "Besides," he continued a little more seriously. "He's pissed at me no matter what I do, so I might as well do what I want."

Stopped at a light, and apparently bored, Miles swiped Maya's purse from her lap and began to wave it around at too far a distance for her to reach from her seat. She started giggling and grabbing for the bag.

"_Miles,_" she whined and they both laughed. He rolled down the window and dangled it outside. "I swear to God if you drop that-"

"You'll what? Tackle me? Go ahead. I'll take it if I must. Hell, I encourage it."

"I'll withhold all tackling until you give it back."

"Oh, the horror!"

"Hey, Romeo?" spat Zoe. "You might want to keep your eyes on the freaking road. 'Kay?" A car honked behind them.

"Mm, you may have a point." He tossed the bag back to Maya. "Now that I gave it back, I'm holding you to that promise of tackling." He winked. Cam closed his eyes and held back a groan.

Maya began to ramble about the band they were seeing, making predictions about the set list. Cam had always loved to watch Maya talk about music. He loved her passion, the way her eyes lit up and danced around the room as though too excited to stay still. She was so small, but when she spoke, she commanded people's attention without even trying.

"Their older stuff was better," she said at one point.

"Oh god, do not be one of _those_ people," Miles responded.

"What? It's true."

"No, their fourth album was good," Tris chimed in.

"Miles, close the window," Zoe demanded. "The wind is messing up my hair. And Maya's too."

"My hair is fine, thank you very much," Maya said. "And Tris, they totally peaked at their second album."

"Seriously, close the damn window!"

"No, Miles, keep it open. I like the breeze.".

"You're such a music snob," Tris told Maya. "And could you change the station?" he asked Miles.

"No, keep it on," said Winston "I like this song."

"This song sucks," Zoe snapped.

"You're never happy," said Miles.

"Yea, because you messed up my freaking hair with the wind."

Cam just wasn't good at this type of conversation, where everyone was manic, overexcited, and talking over each other to get a word in. He could do one-on-one, and he was okay talking about things like school when he didn't have to worry about what to say. But the free-for-all atmosphere at social outings always threw him off, which was just one of the many reasons he usually opted to stay home.

After the window debacle was sorted out (they closed it to shut Zoe up) and a radio station was chosen (Tris suggested a purportedly better one) the car fell silent for a moment.

"Cam, you're so quiet," said Winston. "You've barely said a world this whole ride." Cam never knew how to respond to that.

"Yea, I get that a lot." He knew Winston was just making an observation and that he wasn't trying to be rude, but Cam felt embarrassed at being singled out. He hated feeling like he was a bore to everyone around him.

"Quiet is a good thing sometimes," said Maya. They leaned forward and exchanged a smile over Tris and Zoe, who sat between them. "Anyway, I still say their second album was better…" She rekindled the debate, freeing Cam from the spotlight. He looked at Maya, thanking her wordlessly.

Miles had to be reminded multiple times to throughout the drive to remain within the speed limit. At one point Maya reprimanded him for his speeding, leading to a spat, which was resolved within seconds when he stuck his tongue down her throat. Winston and Tris booed and laughed, while Cam just stared straight ahead. God, he hated them together. Why did Miles have to be so showy about everything?

"Miles, you're the worst driver in human history," Zoe complained. "I'm so glad Chewy is driving back." Winston sighed and grumbled about being the designated driver for the night.

"Just once, you'd think I'd win Rock, Paper, Scissors," he huffed.

* * *

About ten minutes later they reached their destination.

"Miles, you didn't say it was 18+!" shouted Maya as they pulled up to the venue and saw a guy at the door carding people.

"Yea, because if I told you, you would've freaked out," he answered simply. Maya rolled her eyes.

"You're not supposed to lie to your girlfriend, you jerk."

"I didn't lie. I just neglected to tell you one tiny detail."

"That's lying by omission. Besides, they're never going to let us in."

"Sure they will," said Zoe. "Just look confident." She took a mirror out of her purse and started reapplying eyeliner. She then pulled down her shirt to reveal some more cleavage. Maya raised her eyebrows about a mile high.

"What? In trying to pass as eighteen," said Zoe. "At least I have something to show," she muttered, eliciting a scowl from the more petite girl.

"C'mon, guys, just follow my lead," said Miles as they the joined the line. Miles held his head lower in attempt to blend in with the crowd.

"I'm gonna need some identification," said the portly, balding guard as he stopped the group.

"No problem, sir." Miles spoke in a gruffer tone and made a show of rummaging through his pockets. He sighed dramatically. "It seems I must've left my ID back at the office, but I can assure you that-"

"Nice try, kid. No ID, no entry."

"Are you sure about that?" Miles took a fifty out of his pocket and slid into the bouncer's hand. The guy chuckled.

"I dunno. Double it and we'll see." After Miles forked over another fifty dollars, the group rushed inside before the bouncer changed his mind.

"Miles, that was awesome!" shouted Maya over the noise of the crowd.

"All in a day's work," he answered, wrapping his arm around her and pecking her on the lips. Cam felt his face burning up. Why was he even here? Maya was clearly happy without him. Nobody even wanted him here. He was sure of it.

The six of them shimmied their way through the crowd, which was filled mostly with older college students and twenty-somethings. They settled on a small spot fairly close to the stage. Cam wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but it certainly wasn't this. There were no seats, and the audience just stood in a motley mob. The environment was more like a club than anything else. Though the others seemed nonplussed by the venue, Cam felt claustrophobic, like he was cooped in a cage with a bunch of wild chickens.

"Is it hot in here?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. "It's hot, right?"

"Eh. I'm okay," Winston said with a shrug. Maya and Tris were already dancing to the loud electronic music playing, while Zoe chatted with an older guy.

"So, we have a few minutes until the show starts," said Miles. "I'm gonna get the first round. Chewy, you wanna come with?" Winston came along, though he complained again about having to drive.

It hadn't occurred to Cam that they would be drinking, though it didn't particularly surprise him. What wasn't there to like about what was essentially liquid confidence? He had never drank before, except for a little champagne at a wedding and a sip of beer Dylan had snuck him one time.

When Miles returned, Cam finished his first drink quickly, in spite of the less than appealing taste. Miles and Chewy then got a second round and then rejoined the group just as the band began to play. Maya and Tris practically screamed the lyrics in their excitement. Even the perpetually indifferent Zoe seemed to be enjoying herself. Cam didn't know any of the songs, so he sort of swayed back and forth uncomfortably, and smiled at Maya when their eyes met.

"How are you liking the show?" he asked her a few songs in.

"What?" she shouted, leaning closer to him.

"I asked if you like the show so far," he repeated louder, though the music still drowned him out. She furrowed her brows.

"It's so loud, I can't really hear you." She cupped her hand over her ear, but it was no use. Miles stepped in then and began to dance with her, putting his hands on her hips and drawing her closer without hesitation. Maya smiled apologetically at Cam over Miles' shoulder. Cam sighed and retreated into the background again.

* * *

A few songs later, Miles seemed to have amassed a small cluster, all listening to one of his legendary stories. How did he always manage to capture everyone's attention?

"..so we're standing there," said Miles. "And we're still shirtless, mind you, and there's toilet paper all over the yard…" Cam could only imagine how that one had panned out.

People seemed to be drawn to Miles naturally, as though mere proximity to him was a promise of automatic adventure. Cam would give anything to be as interesting as Miles. But Cam wasn't witty or charming, and he never had the balls to do anything crazy or bold.

He was annoying everyone, himself included. He imagined himself disintegrating, breaking down into tiny particles, and being whisked away by the wind. He'd float farther and farther away from the action and noise until everything he knew was gone. Slowly, he'd lose consciousness, and finally it would all go blank and wonderfully peaceful.

He didn't want to be himself anymore. Sometimes he didn't want to _be_, period.

He went to the bar in the back, took a seat on a beer-soaked wooden stool, and started on his third drink. A trio of guys sitting near him glanced in his direction, looking incredulous.

"It's like a kindergarten class took a field trip here," one of them muttered. "How the hell did half these kids get in here?" Cam pretended not to hear them. He glanced back at the dance floor to find Maya and Miles joined at the mouth. _Just wonderful, _he thought.

He was so sick of this constant torturous inner monologue. All he wanted was for it to stop. He just wanted one night of peace, one night of actual fun. _Fun_. What did that word even mean? He couldn't even remember the last time he had genuinely enjoyed himself. How could someone become free?

Cam pulled a couple of his "emergency" pills from his pocket. He glanced around before quickly swallowing them. He felt better immediately just knowing they were in his system. He ordered and downed yet another drink.

His insides began to feel warm and tingly as he fell into a happy, droopy daze.

"You know what? This is gonna be a good night!" he exclaimed to the guys sitting next to him. "I'm going to make it a good night." They smiled and raised their cups.

"Why are the plastic cups at parties and stuff always red?" he wondered aloud. "Have you ever noticed that? It's weird. Maybe red subconsciously makes us thirstier. And then we drink more, so they sell more cups." The guys burst into laughter. Cam was nearly giddy; he had never been the one who cracked everyone up like that

"It's a whole conspiracy," Cam continued. "Maybe the government's in on it!"

"This kid's a trip," said one of the guys, shaking his head. Bolstered by his newfound comedic skills, Cam decided to return to his friends. Tris, Maya, and Zoe were there, though Winston and Miles were nowhere to be found.

"Where have you been?" asked Maya when Cam rejoined them. Her forehead glowed with perspiration and her glasses kept sliding down her freckled nose.

"Bathroom. Long line." Cam glanced a little into the distance to see Winston and Miles talking to an unfamiliar blonde girl.

"Ah. Well now that you're back it's time to make good on my promise," she said with a sinister smile. Cam cocked his head in confusion. "We're dancing, dummy!" she clarified. She grabbed his limp arms and pulled him along as she jumped and shook to the beat. "Loosen up!" She started shaking his arms. "Be looooose." He started laughing despite himself.

"I knew I could get you to smile!" she exclaimed.

"For you?" said Cam. "Any time."

"I like you when you're happy."

"Me too."

Maya was singing with glee, her eyes darting between Cam and the stage. She was buzzed, her cheerful demeanor even brighter. He wasn't sure how much she had had to drink, because she could act pretty goofy sober when she wanted to.

"You look really pretty tonight," Cam blurted.

"You really think so?" She tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Are you kidding? Of course."

"Thanks, Cam." Then she added, "Zoe looks really pretty tonight too. Don't you think?" He glanced over at Zoe, who was in the process of being groped by the college guy who'd approached her earlier. She looked nice, of course, but painfully bored. Zoe was pretty like those untouchable runway models, while Maya was pretty because of how real and alive she was. Cam knew that answering this question was the equivalent of walking through a minefield.

"Sure she's pretty, but she's got absolutely nothing on you." He noticed his words were slurred. "You're...beyond pretty. Beyond _words._" Maya beamed at Cam's answer and moved closer to him. For once he had said the right thing.

Cam's limbs began to feel heavier and his thoughts were becoming all jumbled up. The lightness and joy was morphing into slow confusion.

"My head is empty," said Cam suddenly. "I'm totally blank!"

"It's okay," Maya assured him. "You'll go back to normal when you sober up."

"No, no, this is a good thing. Not thinking is great. I should do it more often. Except that I guess now I'm thinking about not thinking, which is still thinking." His words came out in a frenzy of barely distinguishable syllables.

"Okay, Socrates, maybe I should cut you off." Maya laughed a little nervously. Cam felt himself fading in and out. Maybe he shouldn't have dipped into the emergency stash. It was a good thing he was too far gone to be worried.

Miles returned then, cutting in between the pair.

"Where were you?" Maya asked.

"I was wingman-ing for Chewy. The poor guy can't drink tonight, so I thought I'd at least get him a little easy action." He wore a triumphant smile.

"I didn't realize 'wingman' was a verb," said Maya.

"It is when I use it. He's talking to a perfect 10 now, thanks to me." Maya rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. When Miles noticed her expression he added, "But of course…the rating scale is subjective and totally misogynistic?"

"Nice save," said Maya. The two resumed their dancing-kissing alternation. Cam stumbled away from the couple and was stopped by Tris.

"What's up?" said Tris. Cam heard himself mumble incoherently about being tired. "How much have you had to drink?" Tris asked.

"No more than any of you guys." Cam took extra care not to stumble over his words.

"Wow. You're a lightweight then. Maya's ninety-five pounds and can hold her liquor better."

"Heheh. Yea," muttered Cam, hoping he was convincing. "Hey have you ever heard the song 'Gloomy Sunday'?" Tris looked bemused at the abrupt subject change.

"Nope. Who sings it?"

"Well, there's a wh-whole story behind it. This composer from Hungary wrote it in the thirties I think, or maybe the twenties. I don't know. Apparently like a hundred people killed themselves- hiccup- while listening to it, or quoted it in their suicide notes."

"Wow. For real?"

"Yea, I read it on the internet."

"Then it _must_ be legit."

"And get this," said Cam, missing the sarcasm, "The composer himself c-committed suicide a little while later. Threw himself out a window, I think."

"Jeez."

"Right?"

"Sounds like a pretty depressing song."

"Oh, it is. Billie Holiday did a cover of it, but it was b-b-banned from the radio during World War II, because it was so bad for morale."

"Wow, that's insane. You are extremely morbid." Cam shrugged and walked away from a bewildered Tristan. He dragged himself to the bathroom for a little peace. He plopped himself onto the floor, lied down, and rested his cheek on the cold tile. It was comfortable in here, and quiet too. He was glad to be away from the crowd.

* * *

"What the-?" Cam heard Tris say, followed by, "Guys, he's in here!" Cam opened his eyes and looked around the bathroom, unsure how much time has passed. "Is there any reason you're lying here?" Tristan asked.

"Nah...just got tired," Cam answered. "Too many people."

"Okay...well why don't you get up now? You can sleep it off in the car." Tris's words didn't register with Cam.

"Do you ever wish you could just slip into a coma for a little while until your life gets better?"

"What?" asked a wide-eyed Tristan, surprised by the non sequitur.

"I think it'd be relaxing."

"Um." Tris appeared to be at a loss for words. Miles walked in next.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm on the floor," was all Cam could respond.

"I can see that."

"He's totally smashed," Tris whispered to Miles. "Look how glassy his eyes are." Miles nodded.

"Sometimes it's really hard to be good at something you totally hate," Cam mumbled. "All day and night it's just hockey, hockey, hockey, hockey, hockey…" Miles and Tristan exchanged a look, neither one able to form a response. "I kind of wish I could injured, you know? So I don't have to finish the season."

"Cam…" began Tris, though he trailed off.

"Maybe I should fall off another balcony. That sure was convenient timing." Cam started to laugh to himself.

"What is he talking about?" asked Miles.

"You've had a long night," Tris told Cam. "We should get going."

"Wait, is the band still playing?" Cam asked.

"Yea, but-"

"Noo, no. I don't wanna ruin your night. Go back and watch the rest of the show."

"There are only like two songs left," Tris assured him. "We'll beat the crowd if we leave now anyway."

"I'm sorry," said Cam, feeling a disoriented panic. "I ruined everything. Why do I do these things?"

"Cam, it's okay," said Tris. "Stop freaking out."

"It's not. I'm sorry. I always ruin things."

"You didn't ruin anything. We were leaving anyway."

"I'm so sor-"

"And we forgive you, alright?" Miles interjected. "Now you need to get up off the floor. Do you know how many people have pissed and thrown up in that spot?"

"C'mon, buddy," Tris said. "Let's get out of here." He held out a hand and helped Cam up.

* * *

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." Cam grunted when he heard the voice. He ignored it and he kept his eyes sealed shut. His head was throbbing. "C'mon, get up." Cam just wanted to fall back asleep. He heard a sigh.

"Well, I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice." Was that Zig's voice? Moments later he was jolted awake by a deafening guitar riff. An amp had been placed right next to his ear. He sat up and looked around, realizing he was on a couch in Zig's basement. How the hell had he ended up here? Zig sat across from him smirking, guitar in hand.

"You're a jerk," Cam muttered, his ears still ringing. He couldn't believe how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Maybe so, but I'm a jerk who let your drunk ass stay the night."

"Thank you for that," he croaked.

"No biggie. I left an Advil and some water on the table. You're gonna need it." Cam thanked Zig and took a long swig of water.

"Oh man," Cam groaned. "My billet parents probably would've freaked if I came home like that last night. Wait, do they know where I am?"

"Yea, Maya and Tris texted Nicole as you. She was cool with you staying here. Kind of excited, actually."

"Oh, good. She thinks I'm some sort of recluse. She nearly jumped for joy when I told her I was going out with friends last night."

"Do you remember anything?" Zig asked, now playing the melody of "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer." Cam tried fruitlessly to retrieve the details from his wild night. The clearest memory was of those brief, sparkling moments when it was just him and Maya. He'd been so carefree, so happy, during their dance.

"I remember bits and pieces, but not too much. I remember dancing with Maya and nodding off during the car ride home. Everything else is kind of a blur. Did I do anything stupid?"

"You streaked through Jefferson Park yelling 'I'm king of the world!'"

"Wh-_really?!"_ Cam gaped at Zig in horror.

"No, obviously not," Zig answered. "But the look on your face right now is priceless." Cam grinned in relief. "You did say some pretty weird shit though."

"Damn. Really?" Cam wondered how many of his fucked up thoughts had escaped his mouth.

"Don't worry, though. I tuned you out after awhile. Turns out your nonsensical ramblings just aren't that interesting." Cam finished his water, and decided that despite his overwhelming desire to never leave the couch, he should probably be heading home. Zig tossed him a Pop Tart and helped him find his shoes.

"You should give Maya a call later," Zig suggested as Cam prepared to leave. "She was worried."

"Really?" Cam perked up at that. Maya was worried about him. _She cared_. Zig rolled his eyes.

"Yea. Because she's your friend. Your _platonic friend_."

"Yea, I know." Cam was just glad she was thinking about him in some respect, even if it wasn't romantic. "And, hey, thanks again for letting me stay here."

"Don't mention it. See you Monday, you crazy bastard."


End file.
